


fall in love (with someone new)

by wingedcastielpie



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 2500 words worth of smut for the highest bidder, 3am sex, AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Curses, Amnesia, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual writing sex scenes, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Barebacking, Chatting & Messaging, Comfort, Crying During Sex, Drunk Sex, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Smut, Humiliation kink, Humor, I think I ruined sex for readers, Is it Even Called Amnesia, Kink Negotiation, Language Barrier, M/M, My First Smut, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Poor attempt at smut, Pre- Episode 1, Sex, Social Media, Strangers to Lovers, Temporary Amnesia, Text Messages, The things I do for this fandom, alternative universe, because I don’t know how and this is my first time writing, is that a thing??, virgin writing gay sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 16:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10745772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedcastielpie/pseuds/wingedcastielpie
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki hates saying his name. Hates introducing, hates it when people get to know him, and forget him when 24 hours passed by. He hates it when people besides his family and his best friend knows that he exists, and only they know he existed for 20 years. Until Victor Nikiforov, his long time idol asked for his name, and remembered him.(OR the fanfic where people forget who Katsuki Yuuri is after meeting him 24 hours later and only friends and family who are close to him do.Things get more complicated when Victor Nikiforov came along.)





	fall in love (with someone new)

**Author's Note:**

> This work is partly unbeta-ed. I thank the person who beta-ed this and wish for them to have a nice day!  
> I thank @thyqueenme for the Russian translations. Come check this person out on their [tumblr](https://thyqueenme.tumblr.com/)! <3  
> As for the Japanese translations, I heavily relied on my memory and google translations/ google searches. Please do correct me if I wrote down something wrong!  
> Also, you can click on the lyrics below the small introductory "i." and listen to the music for this chapter. Thank you!

 

i.

[You knew who I was with every step that I ran to you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bPJSsAr2iu0)   
[ Only blue or black days](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bPJSsAr2iu0)   
[ Electing strange perfections in any stranger I choose](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bPJSsAr2iu0)

 

The bed bounced with the meshed bodies on top of the comforter. Hands tangled, tongues touching, snaking, dancing with each other. Heartbeats flushed together in unity, and crashed like a tidal wave on the beach front.

Victor Nikiforov could go on in his poetic mumblings, eyes shut tight and fingers running down his hipbones and to _oh, there, okay, just_ _—_ _oh my_ _G_ _od_

But, seeing as he was currently losing his mind to what could probably be the best sex of his _life_ , he thought that he can’t keep that up.

The stranger above him laughed, whispers flitting across the bedsheets, the headlights from the passing car flashed through the curtains and bathed what could only be either considered to be a god, or the devil himself, and Victor knew he was gone— gone like how his clothes were a trail for an onlooker to follow. Socks on the floor, tie on the table, a shirt on the chair—together with a pair of pants, shoes scattered, thrown all over the room in haste of _pushing, grinding, heat and skin contact._

He vaguely remembered how he got there, with the stranger pulling him into one of his entrancing kisses, his head filled with sluggish smoke, and his filter broken into mutterings, Russian words slipping past his moist lips.

“ _T-_ _Так_ _,”_ He threw his head back, eyes flashing wide open and his mouth open, and _fuck fuckfuck_ he was touching his—

“Ah, fuck, fu—fuck,” Victor hissed, half in pain and half in pleasure. His muddled brain could not process what was happening, only because he was drowning in the sensations of this man touching his dick. His hands were quite shaky and a bit messy, but the feeling was still there, and it left Victor thirsting for more, hands frantically gripping the sheets, the bed frame, air, his skin, and the stranger’s hair.

And, _shitshitt_ , the stranger moaned.

“ _Bol’she_ .” _More,_ Victor begged as he thrashed.

They were drunk as fuck, desperation leaking off them like the scent of the alcohol that clung to their skin and breath.

Victor gasped, and he didn’t know that getting this trashed while spending five hundred dollars on drinking his problems away in some random Japanese club can get him to whatever the fuck this is— because it surely is too sinful for heaven, and too good for hell.

They don’t even know each other’s fucking names.

Victor made a noise at the back of his throat, and the stranger, not even knowing what the fuck Victor did, breathed a whispy laugh into Victor’s thighs.

“ _Nani_?” He kissed the skin in between the Russian’s legs.

“H- ha?” Victor only collapsed in more laughter, throwing his arm over his eyes and he just sounded so amused at the entire thing. He caressed his fingers through the stranger’s hair, and he swore he heard him say something more in Japanese.

Fucking Japanese.

In Victor’s mind, thoughts ran past in milliseconds, each more ridiculous than the last.

_Like, he can’t just go all “Konnichiwa!” while the stranger was giving him a blow job, that’s—_

That’s just fucking ridiculous.

Victor’s body shook with more laughter, whistling sounds came from his lips as he caressed the stranger’s hair and encouraged him to go _harder._

_It was fucking awkward._

Here he was, forgetting the name of his problem, forgetting someone’s name, while fucking someone else he didn’t even know.

It wasn’t even that funny, and he turned into a flustered, emotional wreck.

Seriously, who flies to the other side of the world, just to avoid the person they were planning to never see again? Who fucks a stranger while high or drunk? Who fucks a stranger they can’t even understand because they speak another language? Who fucks a stranger who randomly gave you a lap dance on the top of the bar area from the club you were in?

 

(Well, anyone can…)

 

(What the fuck, who cares about that shit? Right now, Stranger was licking Victor’s dick, eyes on the prize in front of him, hands heated with sweat and the smell of alcohol and sex surrounded them.

The sheets kind of smelled like smoke from a cigarette, probably from the previous occupant of the room; but if Victor was going to be honest, he didn’t really care

He threw the pillow aside. He didn’t even fucking know how it got there, but it was blocking his view, and it was annoying him. )

Wait, hold on, he was supposed to ask the stranger’s name, but he couldn’t focus, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to— _oh shit_ _,_ _oh my fucking_ _G_ _od._

“ _Kak tebya zovut_ _?_ ” _What’s your name?_

Realizing he spoke in his native language, he switched to English.

“Wh- What’s your na-name?”

“Hmm,” The Japanese stranger’s eyes caught Victor’s, and the way it sparkled reminded Victor of a deeply held secret, as if he was there to keep his own identity, or leave in the morning, when the sun’s not fully presented…

Well, _seeing as this was a one-night stand,_ there was a 98% chance that the Japanese guy would go, probably leaving nothing behind, and if he was lucky, a couple of digits hastily scrawled on his palm— if there was no paper on sight.

“I- I need to know wha- what to call you- when I—” _when  I see you again. Or when I c_ _o_ _me.  Or, to avoid shout_ _ing_ _my ex’s name. All options are great._

Who the fuck are the parents of this stranger, because Victor wanted to personally go there and congratulate them for having unprotected sex.

No one had ever gone at Victor like this stranger did, eyes rolled back, hands splayed on Victor’s chest—an attempt to keep Victor in his place?— and taking what he wanted slowly yet surely.

“ _Shit—ah—_ _kimochii_ _—ah!_ ” The stranger bit his lip and Victor was about to go crazy with the sexual energy the man emitted.

“Holy _fuck_ , how do you even do this?”

“Shh, magic?”

“So, you’re— _ah_ — you’re telling me this is your spell on— _me?_ ”

“Ah- ah! _Hai_ _-_ ah, are you flirting whi-while we’re having sex?”

“ _Da_ _?”_

 

The Japanese man stopped moving and rocking, and just collapsed on Victor’s chest, body shaking with laughter, a silent _what the fuck_ went past his lips, and Victor can’t help but laugh for the nth time.

It was ridiculous how their languages get in the way.

(Later, he’ll forget to ask the Japanese man why he knew what ‘yes’ is in Russian.)

(Although, if Victor was going to be honest, the man slipping into his native language because of heedless pleasure turned him on.)

Victor threw his head back.

Any remnants of past laughter flew away from the window as the stranger in his drunken state murmured phrases in Japanese, and along them was the coarsely said “Victor” that slipped out of his lips.

Was Victor bothered that this stranger knew his name? No. The sex was great, plus he was a famous figure skater from Russia who won the last Olympics, so there’ was a high possibility the stranger knew him that way.

What surprised him was that he felt tears at the crook of his neck, while he was thrusting hastily, fucking without any thought in mind but to bring absolute pleasure and rewards.

The stranger moaned, his voice garbled with the mix of a cry of pleasure and pain.

Victor, who was clinging tightly to this stranger, hugged him close and pushed harder, scratched deeper, broke down more barriers that blocked him from the stranger.

“ _Pozhaluysta_ ,” _Please,_  Victor cried. “Wh-what’s your name?”

The stranger trembled, his thighs crushing Victor’s sides as he bounced up and down, countering Victor’s rapid pounding. He rolled his hips down, as if he was there to mark his name across Victor’s skin.

“Y- You wouldn’t want to know,” The stranger smirked mysteriously, even if his eyes were stained with more unshed tears. It was torturous for Victor, to be left hanging on the brink, without a name to scream while he was on the verge of the cliff. Also, those brown rust-tinted eyes looked more desperate, and it wasn’t the kind that Victor wanted while they become intimate with each other.

“Victor.”

“Hmm?”

“You’d forget my name anyway.”

Victor’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as the Japanese man’s tongue found his collarbone, licking languidly, all while he rode faster, hands bruising Victor’s shoulders as he pushed Victor back into the bed.

Victor’s silver hair fanned out on the pillow he was pushed into, and before he could  say anything, the stranger’s lips found his, and his tongue explored the depths of Victor’s mouth, speech deserting him, with the hint of what his name was.

Suddenly, right there, Victor understood what was happening.

The stranger was here to be selfish. To take what he wanted.

Somehow, Victor didn’t know why, but he knew that this stranger was possibly different from his sober state. Perhaps more reserved, a lot caring, maybe. A lot of maybes.

And this was his release.

It drove Victor crazy, like the way the stranger kissed him.

They were both there to be broken, to be mangled together, to be pressed on both sides, scars bared in secrecy and comfort of the 3AM neon lights outside.

People don’t just cry while having sex— maybe from the pleasure, but from the whine the stranger did, it wasn’t from ecstasy or from the way Victor was pounding at his prostate, or anything dirty and filthy like that.

If Victor was more sober, this would do wonders for his ego.

The tears that dripped from the stranger’s eyes triggered something in Victor’s mind, and Victor stopped moving, rushed panting from the two of them filling the air.

They were both silent for a while, save from the hiccups that came from the stranger. The distant sound of cars passing, the generic hum of air condition from the other side of the room, the muffled sound of voices passing by filled the silence. Somewhere outside their room, they heard a door slammed shut.

“ _Shinai_ ,” The stranger whispered. “Don’t stop because of me.”

Victor honestly wanted to bang his head against the wall because he was still inside the stranger’s ass, and he was still hard— both of them were still hard and leaking—but the mood just…

“ _Prosti_ ,” Victor replied back, and the stranger tensed. Victor bit his lip and translated. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

Victor’s fingers tiptoed from the curve of the stranger’s back to the nape of his neck, knuckles brushing the curls at the stranger’s neck.

“I don’t know.”

 

_I don’t know why you’re sad. But, I want you to  know that  I can help, even if I’m someone you would probably never see again._

 

“I’ve heard that often.”

It was Victor’s turn to tense. He could say the same. Was he mad at Victor’s answer?

“I’m not mad. I’m just tired.”

“Of?”

The stranger sighed as he slowly rocked back to Victor’s dick, and it took Victor a minute to recover from their impromptu emotional talk.

 _What are you doing?_ Victor, bewildered with the sudden change, and his hands found the stranger’s hips for the nth time.

“Trying my best to not make you forget,” He grinded down, pulling Victor deeper into him.

Victor laughed quietly. “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t forget.”

“Sure,” The stranger’s eyes crinkled. “I’d love to see you try.”

Victor figured going with the flow of where this stranger was heading. If he wanted to stop talking, and go with the fucking, then fine.  
  


Fine.

  


“Is that a challenge?” Victor cocked his head and thrusted into Yuuri once, twice, thrice and went on from there. “You know my name, so I think you know that I don’t like losing.”

“Okay,”

“Yeah?”

Yuuri’s fingers skimmed Victor’s face, and pulled him into a long kiss, his fingers digging deep into Victor’s scalp and _pulled_.

“Ah! Ah, _O bozhe_ , yes,” Victor sighed, lips unlatching, and the Yuuri found his way into memorizing the sight of Victor Nikiforov under him, lips planting pink petals into Victor’s flushed skin.

Biting. Scratching. Bruises and red, blue and purple watercolor paint.

Marking him down. Leaving a reminder that he hoped would last more than 24 hours later.

 

 

 

 

 

  


×××

 

 

  
  
  
  


 

 

The next morning, there was no sight of numbers scribbled on his skin. Or, on paper.

Victor rolled over, the sun’s rays flitting in between the spaces of the curtains,  He stumbled around the room, eyes half-closed. He reached for his phone on the discarded pants near the lamp on the chair near the bathroom wincing at his face in the mirror, and glanced at the time.

10: 14 AM.

Groaning, he dropped back to his bed, somehow hating the hollow space the stranger left on the sheets, on the pillow, in  between Victor’s arms.

He blearily blinked at the settling dust passing through the space and lulled himself back to sleep.

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
×××  


  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

Victor Nikiforov was at the skating rink.

This, Yuuri knew for sure, because he heard people- camera shutters, excited chattering, busy nattering with the occasional laughter— a lot more than  usual; in Hasetsu’s Ice Castle, there could never be too much noise, and could only be too much quiet.

Yet, it didn't prepare him for possibly seeing Victor for the second time in three days. If he was going to be honest, nothing can really did.

He just took it in, thinking that Victor would forget, anyway. He guessed that was one of the pros of his curse—or a con— Yuuri didn't know anymore.

Seeing Victor made his chest hurt physically, and his eyes teared up. Yuuri wanted to leave the place, but Victor was already walking towards the entrance of the rink, his water bottle and towel in hand. He was wearing black tights and a black dry-fit top, and his fingers were covered with black gloves.  


_Do you remember me?_  


Ah, to think that Yuuri got under Victor's clothes like made Yuuri's face heat up in embarrassment, and he quickly skated to the other side of the rink— far away from the skating legend.

Near or far, it still made him lose focus. He wouldn't dare do any jumps, knowing that he'd flub them when he's anywhere near his state of mind at the moment. So, he decided to practice skating on his edges— backwards, forwards, crossover. He looked at his boots determinedly, but out of his peripheral vision to see where Victor was and so they wouldn't collide with each other.

There was a voice in his head that screamed to get near Victor, to ask him whether he remembered anything, anything from the pressed fingers, blunt crescent-shaped marks at his back, or his name.

He was stubborn, and stayed on his side, facing the barrier when Victor skated by, gaining speed and launched through the air, a split second of beauty, and he landed his triple axel easily. He continued to do this, the jumps getting progressively harder than the one before— and before Yuuri knew it, he just watched the skating legend land the quadruple flip right in front of his eyes.

Yuuri stared with awe and reverence. Watching Victor do his signature move on the screen mattered differently for Yuuri. It felt personal— personal with how the chill of the rink clung to his skin, or the way Yuuri could only hear the sound of the blades digging into the ice without the cheer of the audience, or Victor’s expression of silent triumph when he made a quad- triple flip combination.

And if it weren’t for Victor’s sharp eyes cutting across the space and latching onto Yuuri’s hesitant ones, he would have turned around and left the rink.

But, no. Victor’s eyes carried curiosity within them— a halo of light casting from his blue eyes, as if he had a million of ideas brimming down his lids like tears. And something suggested that Victor didn’t remember anything from that night.

Yuuri looked down at his skates, and proceeded to work on inside edge drills.

Victor saw his face, and Yuuri thought that maybe Victor didn’t want to approach and talk to him, but from what he had learned, that was not the reaction someone you  became intimate with would have. A tell-tale blush, or a triggered dilation of pupils, maybe even a secret smile thrown his way would do. Or something like, _I remembered you. I am not leaving till next week, do you want to continue where we left off?_

None of those were Victor’s reactions.

Before Yuuri can humiliate himself further by skating towards Victor and doing something like kissing him just to ease the pain in his chest (or make Victor remember, as if he was in a fictional world to be able to make that happen), he brushed off the ice that gathered at the edge of his blades and stepped off the rink.

He missed the way Victor reached out his hand to him hesitantly.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

* * *

* * *

  


“ _Bog_ ,”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Ah! Go- God!”

 

“God sounds like— like a good substitute for my name,” The stranger grinned against his pulse point and bit at the skin there. Victor had to hold himself back so he wouldn’t go too early, wouldn’t miss the opportunity of doing more.

“Accurate,” Victor mumbled in his blissed state. “I’d love worshipping you.”

The stranger’s determined movements brought more shockwaves into Victor’s shaken stupor.

“But, I’d love it more if I screamed— ah!— your name out loud so the world would know,”

“The fuck?”

Victor laughed, and it felt good for him because his partner in bed became more vigorous in his riding.

“Didn’t know you’re into— _ah!—_ religious kink?” The man teased. He suddenly stopped his movements, their pants muffled with the sound of quiet laughter. “How would the world react to that? Imagine Victor Nikiforov ruining his rosaries with wishing to be someone’s slut.”

_Oh shit. What the fuck. What the—_

“Oh, oh my God, you like that?” The Japanese man exclaimed as he teasingly pushed himself down Victor’s dick, lube and precum leaking out of his ass. “Being a whore for a stranger?”

No one knew about this kink, frankly because most of his past bed partners (, or lovers), thought that praising him for something like winning a gold was the best way to get him off.

“What’s that? You want more?” The Japanese man kneeled back on the front of his feet, Victor’s dick slipping out in a way that frustrated Victor to wit’s end.

Victor hastily nodded, face folded in desperation that wasn’t the same as the feelings he felt before.

 

With a grin, the stranger pushed back on Victor’s dick, and trailed his fingers across Victor’s chest.

 

* * *

* * *

  
  
  


 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  


"Commemorative photo?" Victor cocked his head to the side. It was right after the Junior Men Singles competition, with Yuri and Yakov talking to each other (read: Yakov was screaming. Yuri didn't care) when he noticed Yuuri Katsuki (or is it "Katsuki Yuuri"?) at his peripheral vision, staring with surprisingly soulful eyes. "Sure."

He knew of him ever since he watched him skate his Free Skate program, and immediately recognized Yuuri as a fan of his. Victor wasn't really egotistical, but sometimes, he can tell whether a skater was a fan of someone else mostly because of their style and the composition of his programs.

There was a chance that Yuuri was not a fan of Victor's, and only copied Victor's style because Victor was the person currently holding all the gold medals and records in competitions— and what better way to rise to the top when you can learn, observe and watch the top skater and practice from there? After all, that was what Victor did when he was younger.

He watched the myriad of expressions pass over Yuuri's face. There was shock, which was the most noticeable expression Victor noticed because he was used to seeing it all the time (if he wasn't, then he was doing a bad job at surprising his audience).

Then disbelief, as if he can't believe someone like Victor would talk to him. Victor was tempted to tease the skater, to tell him that someone like him would very much want to talk to a cute qualifier of Grand Prix Final; but something in Yuuri's face made him stand and watch as Yuuri walked away, with a Japanese reporter calling after him.

Disappointment. Yuuri was disappointed. Well, not so much as disappointment and more of upset and depressed. With the way Yuuri had his shoulders hunched (as if he was caving himself into attempting to look less noticeable), to Victor's observation of Yuuri's magnificent Short Program and its comparison to his Free Skate.

He could tell right away that there was something about Yuuri Katsuki, something sad and lonely, and he couldn’t help but empathize, because if there was anyone in the venue who knew a lot about feeling sad and lonely in the midst of bright places filled with people, it was Victor.

The idea of Victor Nikiforov feeling depressed was almost laughable. The probability of that happening has almost the same rate as magicians summoning unicorns and faeries from another dimension. Victor Nikiforov being sad would be wrong because who would be when they have the world in their hands, and arrays of gold around their neck?

Yuuri’s face stayed sad throughout the three hours preparation before the Closing banquet. Within those minutes, Victor spent half of it attempting to look at his best form, without the weight of his crushing depression ruining his image as a figure skater, and the other half looking for more information about Yuuri.

As it turned out, Yuuri actually won not one but three gold medals in his Junior skating years— one from Worlds, from his second entry for Grand Prix and the last one from his last year in Junior’s Grand Prix finals. He won three silvers, and two bronze from other events again.

 

How come Victor didn’t know about this?

 

He sat on his bed, with his phone in his hands, bewildered that he… _forgot_ about Yuuri? Victor naturally watched the Juniors Men Singles and Senior Women Singles competitions— either to study his other possible competitors, to support for his team, or simply for fun.

But not once did he ever _hear_ about Yuuri making gold.

Sure, he knew him as a figure skater from Japan. He knew he was exceptional at his step- sequences, but…

But any memory of watching Yuuri _skate_ didn’t enter his mind. Either that, or he can’t remember _any program_ Yuuri has ever skated.

Victor was frozen, immobile as he clicked link after link of videos with Yuuri skating in them. He loved Yuuri’s skate back from when he was thirteen, with him skating to _Two People_ from the  OST of _The Grave of the Fireflies._ The way he brought emotions into stories, hands always holding out, as if he was expecting a hug from a little sibling. Eyes moist, with his smile twisted into a bittersweet smile. The program wasn’t for a competition, more for an ice show in his home rink, in celebration for his town’s journey in surviving the great earthquake that struck them. There was only the double axel, single lutz, and double toe-loop in his program; however, Victor can’t tear his eyes away, his mouth dry and he felt like he was involved, watching in the venue itself because he can almost hear the sounds of the ice being marked, the clapping of the audience when Yuuri landed his jumps, or when Yuuri called out something in Japanese.

 

_How did he forget?_

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come check me out on my [tumblr!](http://wingedcastielpie.tumblr.com/)! TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK by leaving your comment down below! Thank you for reading! <3


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